Parades Turn Into Public Threats for Canada’s Hindus
By Manu Shrivastava
As India struck back militarily in Pahalgam, silencing yet another provocation from across the border, its perennial adversaries found voice not on a battlefield but on foreign soil. Thousands of miles away, in the heart of Canada, the Khalistani brigade — ever-eager to antagonise — seized the moment to stage an audacious declaration of hostility. This time, it wasn’t just rhetoric or revisionist sloganeering. It was a pointed, public broadcast of hate aimed directly at Canada’s Hindu community — a gesture as chilling as it was calculated.
It wasn’t tucked away in the graffiti of a back alley, whispered in the shadows, or scribbled anonymously online. It marched down a Canadian street—in full public view—riding high on a float, flanked by flags, cheered on by a crowd and filmed from every possible angle. A dramatised assassination scene, brazen and bloody, took centre stage in a parade. And in that moment, Canada’s thin veneer of multicultural politeness shattered into shards of fear.
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For Canada’s Hindus, the writing isn’t just on the wall anymore. It’s on temple doors, on street slogans, and now, on parade floats. What was once an undercurrent of unease has swelled into an open torrent of intimidation. A float celebrating the violent end of a world leader—India’s Indira Gandhi—in the name of ideology, has crossed a line that many are pretending doesn’t exist. The threat isn’t whispered anymore. It’s dancing in daylight.
This isn’t a question of political expression or free speech. It’s a community’s safety that’s under siege. The unsettling visuals captured in a widely-shared reel aren’t just provocative; they’re a chilling reminder of how normalised extremism has become in parts of Canada’s social and political fabric. And the silence from the top? It echoes louder than the drumbeats of the parade.
Temples have been defaced. Slogans spewing hate have cropped up on public parks named after sacred Hindu texts. Effigies and inflammatory placards have found their way into what used to be spaces of celebration. And now, with murder re-enactments being paraded under they guise of cultural expression, Canada’s Hindus are left to wonder—how safe are we, really?
It’s not that the community hasn’t spoken up. Former parliamentarian Chandra Arya has launched a dedicated Hindu advocacy body. Grassroots petitions to include “Hinduphobia” in the country’s legal lexicon have amassed thousands of signatures. Formal representations have been made to Canadian authorities and echoed diplomatically by India. But when the problem wears a saffron tilak, holds a Bhagavad Gita, or prays with folded hands, it seems to slip between the cracks of Canada's multiculturalism model.
The fear is not just of vandalism or hate speech anymore. It’s of what comes next. What happens when incendiary imagery normalises violence in the name of activism? What happens when young minds growing up in Canadian suburbs are fed narratives that demonise entire communities? What happens when being Hindu becomes a political liability, even in a nation that swears by secularism?
Canada, in its bid to be an inclusive haven, must draw a line. Because when freedom of speech morphs into freedom to threaten, it’s no longer a civil liberty—it’s civil danger.
And for Canada’s Hindus,t it’s not just about one float in one parade. It’s about a quiet erosion of trust, of belonging, of safety.
